Impossible
by Estel Kenobi
Summary: She couldn't actually be here... it wasn't possible. Tag for S05E25, A Make Kaua, and a series of loosely connected one-shots detailing the before and after of Catherine's unexpected return from Afghanistan. Steve and Danny centric. Some whump, emotional and otherwise.
1. The End

_Something wasn't right. He'd known it from the first second he had heard her voice and suddenly she was there in front of him. In those first wild racing heartbeats his brain had screamed that it wasn't possible… she couldn't be here… NOT POSSIBLE_ …

 _But she was there… hesitant and beautiful and walking towards him and Dear God_ _she was HERE… wrapped in his arms… solid and warm and real… hugging him back… smelling like the desert and the ocean and his heart was singing with a joy too loud for all reasons why it couldn't be._

 _He wanted to drink in the sight of her… never let go of her… never let her out of his sight again. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to, in a moment, get lost in her endless brown eyes, her every feature, all of it exactly as he remembered._

 _And that should have been the most obvious clue of all. It was all right in front of him… he almost had a finger on why…_

 _But suddenly there was danger and a job to do and she was back with him doing this together and that niggling sense of "not right"_ _got pushed aside in their mad dash to stop everything from being destroyed._

 _And before the adrenaline even had time to fade they had a wedding to finish and "not right" got pushed even further away to make room for "what if…"_

 _All the what-ifs he had shushed for the pain their whispers caused were suddenly loud and full of the clamor of potential and promise again. And he could no longer hear the reasons why none of this was possible._

 _-0-0-0-0-0-_

The ocean spread beneath them like an artist's canvas, breathtaking sharp colors that somehow seemed more vibrant than he'd ever seen them. He glanced over, finding her also studying the expanse of blues and greens steadily rushing up to meet them. It was good that they were on a mission together again… falling into sync like the time apart was nothing. Falling towards the ocean side by side. She caught his eye with a twinkle in her own and he felt a smile pull along with the canvas harness tightening as they both tugged the release, dropping free of their parachutes and into the ocean feet first, barely causing a disturbance in the surface of the water.

Fabric pooled on top of the water as they sank beneath the crystal surface.

Her hand found his and squeezed, "This isn't what trust looks like, Steve."

Something in his heart seized, he'd thought they were past all this. Blue eyes sought out brown to try and convey the sincerity when he promised, "I trust you."

She flashed that half-smile that made him forget to breathe, "I love you too…"

Then her fingers slipped through his and the water went dark.

Another voice drifted faintly through the darkness...

" _Did I tell you that Grace is currently not speaking to me? Not since she found out about Charlie. I'm not sure if she's more upset that Rachel and I had an affair or that we ended it. Which…"_

He blinked...colors slowly fading back in from inky black. Not the bright cerulean blues and sharp turquoise...just muted creams and subdued beige. The complete lack of vibrancy surrounding him was more startling than suddenly not being in the middle of the ocean.

"Steve? Hey, you back with me?"

He rolled his head towards the voice, catching a swath of color again in the blue eyes he found watching him. Haggard blue eyes beneath disheveled blonde hair. "Where-" Words caught… feeling like they were forced around sandpaper and razorblades.

"Shh… take it easy, okay? You're in the hospital."

Things were fluctuating between clarity and something blurry… and mushy. He closed his eyes when the room shifted in a way he was sure it wasn't meant to. "Danny?"

"Yeah. Right here." The voice remained soft… tired. There was a gentle pressure on his hand...which was strange since he felt disconnected from the rest of his body.

"But...I thought that...Catherine?"

He opened his eyes again to catch the flash of surprise across the other man's face quickly shift to one of sorrow. Brows knit together, Danny shifted in seat, scooting to the edge of the chair, shoulders bowed. He blew out a slow breath and scrubbed a hand over the stubble dusting his jaw, the lines around his eyes seeming darker, more pronounced. "Steve…" he hesitated, "Catherine never made it back from Afghanistan."

Memory skittered back then. Reports that said " _ssédza dzhangyaalay"_ had finally been caught… reports he'd refused to believe… until a video had surfaced…

Eyes suddenly burning, throat closing around a lump that hurt much worse than whatever razorblades he'd somehow managed to swallow earlier, he couldn't breathe. If he unclenched his jaw long enough to take a breath it would all come bubbling out.

The pressure on his hand increased, joined by another on his shoulder. He risked a quick glance and caught Danny, out of his chair, crouched next to the bed, pain written on his face, throat working like he wanted to say something. But there hadn't been anything to say then that wouldn't come out hollow and there wasn't anything he could say now.

Steve could feel himself starting to shake, his free hand moved to cover his face, but he could feel the hot tears slipping past.

He should have known it was a dream. It seemed so obvious now… they had been talking underwater. The colors had been too vibrant to be real… the surface of the ocean as still and smooth as glass, not a wave or a ripple in sight. And their parachutes had sported bright yellow smiley faces.

He choked on a laugh that sounded hysterical even to his own ears, and ended in something much closer to a sob. He bit down on the inside of his cheek, trying to breathe through it even though air was coming and leaving in jagged and unsteady bursts.

An arm abruptly hooked around his shoulder and tugged and he found himself pulled into a rough embrace, head awkwardly pressed against his partner's shoulder. The smell of stale coffee and Danny's cologne drifted from the fabric that was pressed against his face, chasing away the last impressions of saltwater, but slowly dampening with more as Steve silently shook.


	2. The Question

It was the height of tourist season and the Honolulu airport was a hive of activity. A cacophony of voices buzzed in the artificially chilled air and the churning of hundreds of people in leis and bright Hawaiian shirts created a kaleidoscope of shifting colors.

Steve shivers, drenched in a cold sweat that the cool air is only compounding. Pulse pounding in his ears, clammy hands clasped tight to keep them from shaking… it's getting more difficult to breathe and he feels lightheaded, nausea climbing up the back of his throat.

Elbows resting against his knees, he leans forward to try and ease the tight band constricting his chest, trying to take deeper breaths. A sharp pain jabs into his hip at the shift in position and the pressure around his chest squeezes harder, the air suddenly caught inside his lungs.

He fumbles in his pocket with numb fingers for the box that's poking him and manages to free it but not the air held hostage in his chest. The edges of the box bite into his fingers, reaching through the tingling numbness, as his grip tightens spasmodically around it... it's tiny hinges scraping against his palm.

He has about two minutes to figure this shit out before he passes out in the middle of the airport.

So far he's managed not to call attention to himself and he's hoping to keep it that way. Running is not an option, either through the crowds or in place. That leaves him with little choice.

He pulls out his cell phone. The screen blurs as sweat burns his eyes and he drags a hand across his face, one leg jogging up and down at a frantic pace while the phone rings.

" _I swear, McGarrett, if you ask me to track that flight one more time…"_

"Danny," he barely manages to choke the name out.

There's a pause where the only sound is his struggle to breathe, " _Steve, are you having a panic attack?"_

He presses the phone to his forehead, tries again to regulate his air intake, is entirely unsuccessful, and brings it back to his ear, " _-cking hell is the matter with you? Put a nuclear bomb in front of the man… he's a rock. Engagement ring? Meltdown."_

"Danny, please…"

" _No. You've spent weeks convincing me that this is the right call. Well, congratulations… I am now convinced. And you did not drag me into half-a-dozen jewelry stores to wuss out now. Pull yourself together."_

Steve shakes his head helplessly, "I can't."

" _Seriously? Who are you and what you have you done with my partner? Because this cannot be Steve I-eat-danger-for-breakfast-with-a-side-of-explosions McGarrett. Navy SEAL, ninja warrior, black-op extraordinaire, any of this ringing a bell? Or are ringing bells a dirty word to you? No? Nothing?"_ A gruff exhale, " _Are you honestly telling me that you can sit in a sniper's perch for hours, infiltrate foreign countries as a hobby, fly a freaking nuclear bomb into the ocean... NONE of that phases you... but your girlfriend coming home takes you apart? The dichotomy you have going here is insanity, you at least see this, yes?"_

His partner's high strung rambling has the desired effect and he feels the vice around his chest begin to loosen at the familiar tone. "Danny, I can't treat this like an op. It would make it so much easier if I could…"

" _But?"_ the voice prods cautiously.

"You never let yourself feel anything during a mission except the drive to complete it. She deserves better."

" _So you're letting yourself have an emotion. I'm very proud of you. But that emotion is… fear?"_

His impulse is to deny it but the proof is in his shaking sweaty hands. He swallows, throat desert dry.

" _Steve… what are you afraid of?"_

He can't answer that. There's no way to condense the hurricane force of swirling thoughts and feeling that is choking the life out of him into something as finite as words. But words are how Danny lives and breathes and he knows the man can't fathom what it's like to not have any… to try so hard to pin them down but have them elude you anyway.

There's a tired sigh on the other end, " _You're gonna hate what I'm about to say, but I need you to trust me no matter how ass-backwards this sounds, alright? I want you to think back to Afghanistan..."_

Steve feels his heartbeat immediately pound doubletime against his ribcage. Adrenaline floods his system as dark images and echoes of pain flicker through his brain.

" _...back to that moment when you were sure you were about to die…"_

Hands dig into his flesh, igniting the fresh wounds, forcing him down, knees buckling and hitting the floor…

"Danny, this isn't helping..." he gasps into the clenched phone, eyes squeezed tight, trying to shove the flood back into its broken cage before it drags him completely under...

" _What went through your mind in that moment?"_

"Danny…"

" _Steve…"_ the voice is firm, " _when you were about to die… what went through your head?"_

He groans against the pressure in his head and his chest, and leans back in his seat, free arm instinctively reaching up his shoulder, pressing against phantom pains from the wound that had taken the longest to heal. He swallows hard and can't stop the tremor in his voice, "That I wouldn't be there to help you scare the shit out of the first guy who tries to date Grace. That I didn't say goodbye to Mary."

" _And?"_

He hesitates, chin dipping down to his chest, waiting through several wheezing breaths before managing in a hoarse whisper, "And I never told Catherine I loved her."

Steve might not be able see his partner, but he just knows that the other man is nodding in grim satisfaction. " _Fist bumping death prioritizes a lot of shit, doesn't it?"_

He takes another unsteady breath and the air comes easier, "Yeah, I guess it does."

" _Sooo... what does that tell you?"_

The tone is so akin to how Danny would address Grace after an important life lesson that Steve can't help but grin. "That I'm being an idiot?"

" _Ding ding ding! Give the man a prize!"_

There is a muffled sound of an unfamiliar notification chime through the phone and Danny " _hmmm"s_ to himself. The clacking of several keys follows before the Jersey native chuckles, " _Well, according to this, during our chat her flight landed at terminal B and is now disembarking at gate twelve. So if you're quite done with your little crisis? I suggest you go get your girl."_

Adrenaline hits him again but this time it brings excitement in its wake rather than anxiety. He's already moving, crowds parting around him like water breaking for the hull of a ship. "Thanks, Danny."

" _Anytime. I got your back, babe, no matter what. You know that, right?"_

"I know. You know you're my best man if she says yes?"

" _Damn straight I am."_

Steve grins even though he knows Danny can't see it. "And Grace… is she too old to be a flower girl?"

His partner sighs but it's fond, he can hear a matching smile when he admonishes, " _One thing at a time, Stephen. Let's get through the next five minutes before you start planning the whole thing out."_

"Right." He slows his forward march as gate twelve comes into view and he spots a familiar brunette with a duffel at her feet, scanning the crowd. "Gotta go… zero hour."

" _Good luck."_

He ends the call just as Catherine looks his way and their eyes meet. She smiles and it's shy and maybe just a little coy and his heart leapfrogs all the way up into his throat. All at once they're both running and when they collide he can't help himself from picking her up and spinning around in unending circles. Their arms tangle and she kisses him or maybe he kissed her first but the world narrows to nothing else but this. Until someone whistles and he remembers they're in public and should probably cool it. Just a tad.

He sets her back on her feet and he's gratified that she doesn't let go. Just glances to the side and blushes a bit, arms still locked around his. As he stares at her, suddenly the words are there and he doesn't know how it took so long for him to find them. "Cath… I know we both have… _unpredictable_ lives. And if this past year has proved anything it's that… things happen you could never anticipate… and any one of us could die tomorrow. And I'm not taking that chance anymore. I'm not going to let another day, another minute, go by without letting you know how much I love you."

He drops to one knee and opens the box, fluorescent lights overhead making the diamond sparkle, "Catherine Rollins…" his heart is racing but his voice is steady, "would you do me the honor of accepting the longest, craziest mission of your life, and be my wife?"

There are tears in her eyes and it's making them sparkle more than the gem. She has both hands pressed to her lips but she's laughing and crying through them and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard.

"Steve…" she joins him on the tiled floor and pulls him into a fierce hug. Her face presses into his neck and she whispers in his ear, "from this point on… that is the _only_ mission I'll accept."

.

\- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -

.

Blue lights glow four a.m. in the dark. Two hours. That's all that has passed since he'd finally been able to nod off.

Steve rolls over, eyes drawn to the nightstand and the empty space where Catherine's gun should be, somehow just as big as the empty space in his bed. He sighs and throws back the covers. He won't sleep any more tonight.


End file.
